


Sleeping with your eyes wide open

by Anemonenfisch



Category: Frey & McGray Series - Oscar de Muriel
Genre: Gen, Graphic Violence is for one slit throat, I haven't read the next book yet, Nightmares, So Bear With me, also I read these books in German and forgot the name of the Kolman twins, dedicated to the other authers that keep this fandom alive I love you all, in which McGrey processes his feelings after the latest book, so bear with me on that one too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29562855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anemonenfisch/pseuds/Anemonenfisch
Summary: In his nightmares, Frey smiles at him.
Relationships: Ian Frey & Adolphus "Nine-Nails" McGrey
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Sleeping with your eyes wide open

They are in the bloody forest again. McGray knows he's dreaming. The earth smells like rotten flesh, the pine needles dig through his pants, but he's dreaming. He always had a very vivid imagination, something he once used to spin fairytales for his sister, once used to make the world bigger for her eyes. Now he uses it to see things behind the ordinary. Everyone thinks that McGray turned mad with grief the moment the knife separated flesh from bones, but it was more like a veil had been lifted from his eyes. The world had always been a bit bigger for him but now he was able to see all the things, lurking in the shadows, lurking in the closets, lurking in the dark, and he had names for them. He never felt saner.  
But, they are in the forest. Normally his dreams are not in forests, his dreams are in his old house. Sometimes they play out in the streets of Edinburgh. He dreams of his sister most of the time if the universe took pity on him sometimes the dream would start nice. Sometimes his sister would be just like she used to be. Sometimes he dreams of his parents too, all of them together, eating dinner, reading in the library, but it was always too good to last long and most of the time he only had a few dream minutes before he saw blood leaking out under a doorway, before his sister's smile would twist horribly, before he would turn around and the room behind him would be empty except for a poorly illuminated figure standing there and taunting him.

But they are in the forest with people dragging them along and he knows what's to come.  
The whole case has been one big pile of shit. They had been pieces, stupid little pieces that these people tried to push around, tried making them do the dirty work and he was thoroughly sick of every single one of these bastards. The Koloman family, their little cult town, these poor people in the cave. He would have never thought that he would miss dreaming about the fucking death of his family but it was better than this. They never drag him to the barrel first, because death is a relief that is not for Adolphus McGrey, dream or reality. So, they never drag him to the barrel first. 

The man next to him makes a soft grunt when being dragged to his feet and McGrey throws him a glance. Often it's not even Maurice, sometimes his mind puts other people there, other people that he knows and cares about deeply. Most of the time it's Ian. It doesn't make sense, and most of his dreams are almost terrifyingly realistic, a reason why he doesn't sleep much, but in most of his dreams, it's Ian fucking Percy Frey being dragged off the ground and away from him.  
He knows that the poor lad had been stuck in the woods during this spectacle. But it's Ian being dragged up and away in his dreams, it's Ian whose head is held into place. It's Ian who gets words whispered into his ear by one of the twins. McGrey hates them the most, these two angelic beings with their perfect skin, paid for in blood. He hates their guts, more than their parents probably. Maybe because they had taken one good look at the Frey family and decided to slither their way into both men's heart. He tries to get up, tries to rip her away from Ian, tries to get his partner up and away, even though he knows it's pointless. He can't change his dreams, no matter how big his imagination is, he can't get his thoughts to stir in a happy direction. Maybe that's saying something about his state of mind, but McGrey has long ago decided that other people talked enough about his sanity and he was just not going to bother.

So he struggles, he digs his feet into the soft ground that smells of wet earth and breathes in the air that smells of fire and the distinct tang of blood not yet spilled. Hands grab him and push him down, bodies press him down and he can almost taste the dirt that would fill his mouth in reality.

Frey's eyes are fixed on something in the distance, something McGrey can't see or hear and he hopes that it's something nice. McGrey never forgets when he's dreaming. The first few weeks after the incident he hasn't been able to tell dream and reality apart, maybe he had been mad back then, for a little bit. Nowadays, years later, he knows that his smiling sister isn't real. He knows that he will never read poetry to his father again. He knows that he will never wake up again to the sound of his mothers singing. He's used to it, used to his empty house, used to his empty library. 

He isn't used to his empty bureau yet. Isn't used to Frey not looking at him anymore. He isn't used to not having neatly written notes to go back to. He isn't used to working alone anymore because that fucking Englishman ruined it for him with his stuffy voice and ridicule demeanour. He had thought that Frey would be gone after the incident with the unfortunate violinist, driven away by McGrey, the city, the country and the quite obvious fact that none of them wanted to work together ever again. But by a funny twist of fate, England didn't want her son back and so McGrey hab been stuck with him ever since. The cruel thing was, this case had been the first one that they worked together just fine. It occurred to him the moment he saw Frey waiting for him and not feeling the overwhelming urge to strangle his partner. Frey had noticed too, later, and there had been this little stunned look on him, the way his lips curled into a surprised, quick smile. It felt good.  
Frey left him. And McGrey isn't used to this yet, so he forgets. He forgets that it's a dream. The forest is real, the hands on his body are real, Frey looks at him, and smiles. It's a serene smile, a smile of a man at peace with himself. It's crueller than if his face would have been twisted up in fear. Frey doesn't smile at him anymore, and he never smiled much at him anyway, maybe the little, sharp ones that he gets if Frey thinks he's smarter than him. But at the Kolomans mansion, when they both realised that they might not hate each other anymore, there had been a faint hope that maybe this was the start of something nice and he hadn't had nice things in his life for years.

He forgets that it's a dream and so he can't stop himself from screaming. Screaming at Frey to move, to get away, screaming at Koloman, screaming at the forest to just swallow them up.  
The girl turns around and her hair reflects the torch flames and it gives her head a faint halo. He is reminded of a church window he saw once, he doesn't remember where, or why, but he remembers the awe he had felt. No wonder Frey fell a bit for her. She regards him, looks at him with eyes full of pity and then turns around and slits Ian's throat. Ian smiles at him and the blood oozes out of his body.  
He screams.

Reality comes in the form of his empty room which is unusual but he remembers, bits by bits that he had stayed at the station until late, unwilling to leave but also unwilling to stay. He's lonely, in a way. Lonely like he hasn't been in a while and he hates Frey for making him feel that way again.  
The house is empty and for a second he entertains the notion of visiting Frey. Just showing up at this door, getting Layton to let him inside and just getting a quick look at Frey's face, to confirm that he's still breathing. But Frey doesn't live in Edingburgh anymore.  
The dream is still fresh in his mind, he still smells the forest, still hears the quiet crackling of the torches. He still sees Frey, sees his smile. Sees his blood.

He gets up, opens the window to chase the lingering memories out and decides to go back to work.


End file.
